I Still Love You, You Bloody Brat
by Newt Is My Shank
Summary: Child!Thomas AU and Tutor/Babysitter!Newt AU. Home tutor Newt decides to babysit an adorable little kid called Thomas, whose abundance of problems and talents convinces Newt to be more than just a tutor to him. A story of love, trust and friendship (and possibly one-sided love interests), Newt's not going to know what's hit him.
1. Prologue (?)

**Author's Note:** Damn, I still don't own this franchise.

* * *

 **I Still Love You, You Bloody Brat**

* * *

"Bloody hell."

Little Thomas hung his head in shame. He clung anxiously onto his form-fitting panda motif hoodie, his oversized hood covering the top of his large, puppy-dog eyes.

"Bloody hell. Bloody hell. Bloody…. _hell_."

Thomas bit his lip cutely, tentatively looking up at Newt, a hand brushing through the locks of his fluffy blonde hair, face contorted in a mixture of frustration and disbelief. Chapped pink lips biting on each other's, face flushed in weariness.

His _eyes_ though.

Thomas already had a minor blush forming on his cheeks.

A mysterious, chocolate brown colour, with minuscule specks of caramel accentuating them. Those eyes had always looked gorgeous, even when Newt was angry. There were even times when he came to visit after school and had a mildly depressing air around him, his eyes glazed and hazy brown, as if he was in a trance.

Thomas couldn't stop eyeing him when he was in that state, while he gently comforted his babysitter slash home tutor with tender rubs to his back and neck. Newt would smile lovingly at him and he'd bring him to his chest and cage him in a overwhelmingly warm hug.

Thomas himself would feel a violent thrill shoot through him as he shivered against the leaner, more muscled body embracing him.

Thomas loved hugs. Especially Newt's.

Now however, was definitely _not_ the time to think about hugs.

* * *

"Look Tommy, I'm pretty sure I'm not a professional chef here, but what on earth made you think to break eggs with a _hammer_?"

The twelve-year-old flinched at the older teen's tone and he looked down to his feet on reflex, tiny thumbs twiddling together in anxiety.

"I'm sorry, Newt."

Newt gave a defeated sigh, the feeling of his palm hitting his forehead in exhaustion followed up by muttered curse signalling a storm to the younger boy.

" _Shit_ , Tommy. This kitchen looks like fucking World War II in here."

Thomas always feared when Newt started swearing. It was normally limited to ' _bloody hell_ 's and ' _oh my god_ 's but anything further than that should've raised bells. The blonde teen was _frustratingly_ polite, and it often appeared to most people as him being indifferent or gentlemanly, often the former.

"Tommy, you're fucking _twelve_ , you should know bloody better!" Newt roared, slamming the counter with a resounding _BOOM_ as pieces of cracked egg shells and broken yolks flew across the surface.

"But Newt I - "

Newt shot his student a death glare, vein pulsing on his cheek. Thomas was now backed up against a corner, restlessly fiddling with the fabric of his hoodie. He didn't dare meet the piercing, furious glare of his beautiful tutor. Thomas knew he messed up. He knew he did something even a five-year-old shouldn't be doing but he did it _anyway_.

Thomas felt like a failure.

"I'm s-sorry…" the younger boy stuttered, biting his lip until it bled. He was shaking like a leaf, his panda ears drooping miserably over his head. He knew he looked like a child like this. A stupid, immature, weak child that couldn't see right from wrong. A child that disappointed everyone. A mere, undesirable, _child._

"I-I'm sorry for messing up…" Thomas choked on his tears, timidly pulling down the top of his hoodie so Newt couldn't see the tears pouring down from his burning hot cheeks, "I'm sorry for being so stupid. I-I'm sorry that you have to babysit someone s-stupid like me. I'm sorry that I do things like this and m-make you unhappy….I'm sorry….for being a _failure!_ "

Thomas sobbed uncontrollably, big blobs of tears dripping on the floor as he crumpled to his knees, hands hurriedly wiping away the heat from his cheeks.

 _I'm sorry_.

Thomas's mouth erupted into a harsh wail, panting frenziedly like dog. He felt faint, he wanted to puke, his head was on the verge of splitting open.

 _I'm sorry_.

Thomas felt every nerve in his body heighten by a million. He couldn't bear to even _look_ at Newt any longer. Newt, the model of intellectual and physical perfection. Newt, the eye candy of many, no matter the sexuality. Newt, the one Thomas longed for the most.

 _I'm sorry Newt_.

With that, Thomas collapsed onto the floor.

* * *

The dreams Thomas had were never pleasant.

Chased by the ever changing expectations of society. Haunted by the judging looks of the people gave him when he walked on the streets with his hand desperately grasping onto Newt's. The whispers. The insults. The _laughter_.

Thomas never stopped screaming.

* * *

Newt clamped his hand over Thomas's.

Newt was sure he wouldn't be able to even think of anything else, or even rest, after what he had _done_. After all the horrible, disgusting things he said to Thomas.

 _His_ Thomas _._

"Tommy," Newt whispered soothingly, his other hand sifting through the dark strands of Thomas's hair. Despite the fact the kid often riled him up, pissed him off sometimes, completely bewildered him, and was often a distraction whenever he tried to study, Newt loved him to bits. There was never a time Newt wasn't tender with him.

The cute little boy, the son of two famous professors, living in the neighbourhood. The family moved in less than two years ago, when Thomas was ten. The professors were family friends of Newt's, and hired Newt to babysit and tutor their kid with a _massive_ social skills problem.

He was brutally ostracized by his peers from an early age. Isolated by overbearing, over-protective parents. Now lumped with a teen tutor - Newt - who was almost four years older than him.

Newt had been his first friend.

It was a tedious journey. The first time Newt was left alone with Thomas, the kid wouldn't even leave the confines of his 'laboratory'. Newt would knock, he'd shout, he'd _plead_. Thomas wouldn't even respond to him. But Newt could feel the little kid's body warmth through the sliding door. He'd hear the scraping sounds of Thomas sketching on his pad, his mumbling and erasing like a musical rhythm.

Newt became addicted to those sounds. Thomas's lunch would lay cold on his lap as he listened away contentedly to Thomas. Sometimes the boy would drop his pencil, he'd adjust himself against the door, shuffle his feet.

There was one time Newt fell asleep by accident and woke up with a cup of homemade chai latte next to him.

What was even more surprising was the little boy sitting on his lap, face filled with bored interest as he quietly fiddled with the belt of Newt's jeans.

"You snore like a pig," were the first words Thomas said to Newt.

* * *

"Ne-ewt…."

Newt perked up abruptly.

The blonde watched dazedly, his shoulders slumped as he watched the boy fidget in his sleep. Twisting and turning and whimpering until he jolted awake, eyes fluttering open.

Newt forced himself not to chuckle as he gently caressed Thomas's face, feeling the brunette shiver slightly at the touch.

The younger boy turned his back on Newt as soon as he realized who he was with, causing Newt to smile uncertainly. Besides the heavy breathing, Thomas wouldn't even dare to look at Newt. His knees were hiked up to his chest, his clothed arms hugging himself protectively.

"Hey…."

Newt shuffled slightly so he could adjust his position. His arms wrapped slowly around Thomas's torso, causing the brunette to flinch. Newt's eyebrows furrowing worriedly at how violently Thomas reacted to his touch. Planting himself next to the boy, he lay his head on top of his. Almost like he was spooning him.

"I'm sorry….for how I acted…Tommy, please."

Thomas remained silent, face hidden.

"I overreacted, I admit that. And I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for shouting at you, I'm sorry for cursing. I know you hate that, Tommy. And I'm bloody sorry for saying all of it. I didn't mean them. Every, single, one."

The blonde could feel Thomas shift in his arms before he caught a glimpse of swollen lips and his student's blushing cheeks.

For a split second, Thomas's eyes were on him.

"You don't…hate me?"

Newt blew gently into the Thomas's ear, pleased at the full-body shudder the younger boy produced. If Newt wasn't concentrated on Thomas's body movements, he could have heard a whimper from the boy's lips.

"I'll still love you, no matter what," Thomas felt himself turn and pressed against Newt's chest, the brunette flushed at the warmth and the vibrations from his chest, "Brat."

Thomas felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders.

"Newt."

The blonde gave a soft 'Hmm?' as he tucked his student's legs under his, nose pressed against Thomas's skin, taking in the small, baby scent of the boy he just couldn't get enough of.

"I love you."

With a chuckle, his mind not understanding the weight and depth of Thomas's words back then, he bent down to kiss the crook of the brunete's nose and smiled against his skin.

"I love you too, brat."


	2. Chapter I: Meeting The Parents

**Author's Note:** I did not expect myself to make a sequel.

* * *

 **Part I -** Meeting The Parents

* * *

Newt was thirteen when he first heard the sounds of two unidentified pairs of footsteps walk into the living room. He was on his laptop, typing away animatedly on a History essay without even looking, already well adjusted with a keyboard and had spent ample time memorizing where all the letters were.

It was odd. The house rarely had any visitors, and when they did, it was normally drunk relatives or annoying mates of Newt's who thought that it was funny to throw sticks at his window at 3 a.m. in the morning because 'they were bored and wanted to fuck shit up'.

"Newt, visitors!"

Barely acknowledging his mother's voice, he stood up on instinct the minute the newly arrived visitors entered the living room. A man and a woman, dressed up like they were going to a dinner party, greeted him with formal smiles. The lady was quite beautiful, while the man beside her looked like a calmly terrifying assassin who could pierce a person's heart with just a glare. Quite literally speaking, of course.

"Hello, Newton," the lady giggled. Normally Newt would cringe at his birth name. Honestly, who named their child fucking _Newton_? However, she was just so attractive he found difficulty telling her so.

 _Her hair is bloody beautiful_ , he thought in a daze.

"I'm sorry to interrupt what you were doing," the man, whose eyebrows were furrowed together in suspicion, as if Newt had a gun under his shirt and was about to shoot him, "we're your new neighbors. The Edisons. Pleasure to meet you, Newton."

"Newt's fine," the blonde replied, finding his voice, "yours?"

Mildly surprised at the overly casual response, the man gestured over to the woman, supposedly his wife, Newt guessed. "This is Teresa Edison née Agnes, my wife."

With an overly cheerful wave, Teresa bounced over to Newt as much as she could in her red heels and grabbed his hands in excitement. Waves of pure happiness radiated off her and Newt almost found himself twitching into a smile.

"You look so cute! Aris, can we keep him? He can be our assistant at the university," Teresa pleaded, shooting her husband puppy-dog eyes. Newt bit back a laugh at the incredulous look that briefly crossed the man's face.

"Your fascination with blonde boys is appalling, Teresa," Aris shook his head, a small smirk forming on his face.

"Honestly Aris, do you see the kind of people in my Chemistry class? Bags under their eyes, writing notes in the speed of light, not even laughing at the jokes I make! Some even drink Red Bull in my class. Red Bull! With _coffee_. Do they **_want_** to get a premature heart attack? Honestly!" Teresa ranted, already ruffling Newt's hair, her other hand pinching his soft cheek.

Aris scoffed, fixing his strangely neon tie around his collar, "That's not as bad. Punks trying to be lawyers, acting like they know everything, thinking they can get away with shit just because they can talk their way out."

"At least they sound interesting," Teresa pouted, for some reason having her arms around the young boy and almost strangling him in a perfume-inducing hug.

"Umm…sorry to break the moment here, but what exactly did you need me here for?" Newt wondered aloud, glancing between the couple that was slowly starting to make him question their sanity.

Aris stared at him and blinked for a few seconds before scratching his neck in embarrassment and tapping Teresa on the shoulder.

"Right, sorry."

With a disgruntled 'Hmph!', Teresa tore away from Newt and sat down on the corner of the sofa, arms crossed in discontent.

"Well, this is quite complicated," Aris murmured, sitting down beside Newt, who moved aside politely, arms folded on his lap.

Newt, despite his earlier grouchiness for being interrupted doing his work, was now fully absorbed by what this fairly intriguing couple had to say. Were all university professors _this_ eccentric?

"As you see, we're family friends of your mother. We just moved in a few days ago, just across the street. Got a kid at home, he's ten," Aris explained uncomfortably.

Newt tilted his head cutely, looking around the room as if their kid was behind them or was hiding around somewhere, too shy to come out.

"So where is he then?" Newt raised a blonde eyebrow, looking at Teresa.

The brown-haired lady in return bit her lip, eyes straying away from Newt's. She looked slightly guilty, if not miffed by his question.

"He didn't want to come."

Newt turned to the older man beside him, face filled with mild discomfort.

"You see…he's different. Very different. It's because of that he's been mistreated by his peers his age group. He has a far superior intellect and his memory capacity is quite unbelievable for his age, but in return, his speech and social skills are…not up to par."

Something clicked in Newt.

"High-functioning autism."

Both parents turned to him at once before looking at each other.

"He's obsessed with designing. Give him a sketchpad and a pencil and not a peek out of him for the entire day. He can design anything. Furniture, clothes, robots. Has an eidetic memory to go along with it. One time we went on a helicopter ride over New York and when we came back down he started drawing the entirety of the city on a _cup,_ "Aris had a faraway gaze in his eyes, as if reminiscing a historical event live.

Smiling wistfully, Teresa went over and sat beside her husband, rubbing little circles on arm.

"We wanted him to have a good life. Making friends, having fun, doing things that kids are supposed to do. No Academics, stress, all that stuff. We didn't want to impose any high expectations of him, even if he wanted us to."

This was when Newt noticed a very drastic change in the temperature. The atmosphere dropped to a few hundred degrees and the looks on both Teresa and Aris's faces were of pure, untainted, tranquil fury.

"You know….our jobs….professors and all, we're busy all the time and we try to look out for our son as much as we can. It took us a few months to realize how…how he was being _treated_ by the people in the school," Teresa gritted her teeth, clenching her fists.

Aris shook his head, clutching his wife's hand protectively, as if to hold her back from unleashing her wrath.

"We took him away, but the damage was already done. At the start he was still capable of socializing, he was willing to talk to others, willing to make friends. Now…even we rarely see him. He doesn't leave his laboratory (Newt raised his eye at that) more than twice a day, he's always having this clouded look in him. He doesn't look at us in the eye anymore. It's…."

Aris bit back a strangled sob. Every inch of him was radiating regret and guilt, as if he could've done more to prevent this from happening.

"It's as if he's _scared_ of us."

An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Newt could almost feel the beating of his heart thumping in his chest. His heart rate multiplied looking at the pained faces the couple had on their faces.

"So you need my help?"

Teresa nodded. She still didn't look at him and was playing uninterestedly at her nails, face devoid of emotion. She took a deep breath before explaining again.

"He needs a friend. A friend who's mature enough to understand him. He needs a friend who can teach him things outside the world he lives in. He needs a friend who's still a little of a kid himself."

Teresa finally built up the courage to look at Newt, who was contemplating

"He needs a friend like you."

It took a while for Newt to process what Teresa had just said. A friend like? The Brit wasn't exactly friendship material. He was indifferent, which explained his limited social circles. He was more interested about knowledge and skills rather than playing around and making a fool of himself like a thirteen-year-old was supposed to.

And befriending a high-functioning autistic kid?

That was kind of beyond him in a sense. It was possible, but they didn't know Newt well enough to judge whether he was friendship material. What if he failed? He hated failure. He wasn't very patient either. He was a little more on less worried whether he was going to snap at the kid instead of actually helping him.

"Newton."

Newt looked up to meet the pleading gazes of both Aris and Teresa.

"It would be a _huge_ responsibility, but it would really help us out a lot. Us and our son. It's a complicated task, but we believe you can accomplish it. You can drop by our place everyday after school, act as his home tutor when we're not around, and if you can, get close to him."

A home tutor?

Newt had to admit, it was a very interesting prospect. He always wanted some firsthand experience at having a job. Teaching and working were synonymous to Newt and his interested was roused more than Aris and Teresa had expected.

"What's his name?"

Teresa grinned at him.

Thinking back, Newt probably shouldn't have been drinking tea at that time.

"Thomas. Thomas Edison."

Newt spat out his drink.

* * *

 _ ***whispers* SAVE ME FROM THE NOTHING I'VE BECOME.**_

 **Reviews are highly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter II: Some Classroom Irony Smut

**Author's Note:** The usual 'I-don't-own-this-book-James-does'.

This chapter kinda starts as a smutty filler but it's not. I've changed the story a bit since I've been getting SO MANY FREAKING PMs for Minewt and I can't exactly write them without some Newtmas subtlety so here you go. Minewt will NOT be the main pairing for this fic, it will still be Newtmas. Think of it as a one-sided pairing with it being _very_ one-sided on Minho's part. I'll also be adding more side pairings for Newt since I'm planning this to be a long fic and I've always been enamored by the 'teacher/student' kink. Also, more love interests for Newt!

* * *

 **Part III –** Some Classroom Irony Smut

* * *

"O my love, Princess Newt!"

Straight students sniggered. Slash fans of all genders fangirled/fanboyed in unison. Any theater student currently in the room suddenly developed violent tics in the corner of their eyes as they watched the play-by-play in front of them.

"Umm…yes…my…lord…?"

Kim Min-ho, the drama teacher, went down on his knee and placed a fist over his heart, eyes glittering at his almost apathetic student who was looking at him with the most judging look in the entire universe.

"Would you do me the honor of being my lovely queen?"

Somewhere across the room, someone with a seriously high-pitched voice screeched. Whether in anger or excitement, Newt _so_ did not want to know.

"…Hell to the no."

Minho dropped his love-struck façade and frowned. The blonde was almost amused by the drastic character change. Burbles of giggles echoed around the class.

"Wrong genre, Mr. Isaacs," Minho mock-scolded, "we are not in a _Glee_ musical."

"Then what exactly are we in sir?"

"A lovely soap opera revolving around a wealthy lord and a princess from a country in needing of a king."

Newt gave an exasperated sigh. "Why am _I_ the princess, sir?"

"Because, my dear Newton, there is no-one else in the class who is as beautiful as you are."

Approving shrieks of slash-depraved fangirls swept over the room.

"Sir, I am a boy."

Minho waggled his finger at him patronizingly, "Not this time. Now, you are Princess Newt who's deeply attracted to me, a great lord – who's very eager to take you up on that offer by the way – so I can take over your father's throne and save your kingdom."

"Sir, what kind of soap opera is this!?"

"A romantic one, in my opinion."

"We're retelling a soap opera that's going to end with me dead and you crying over my dead body, sir, I can't see the love in that, honestly," Newt answered placidly, causing quite a number of students to choke on their laughter.

The drama teacher refused to smile at that, though it was obvious to anyone in sight that his eyes were sparkling with maniacal humor. He absolutely fucking _loved_ it when someone had the guts to make teasing jabs at him. And Newton Isaacs was so _full_ those jabs.

"See me after class, Mr. Isaacs. Let's see what we can do with that snarky attitude of yours," Minho stood up from his position promptly as the school bell washed over the sounds of adoring sighs from his female students.

As the students slowly filtered out of the class – some more hesitantly so as to watch the sparks fly between their widely-liked drama teacher and their rather... _intense…._ classmate – , the blonde himself gave another sigh as he followed his teacher to the front of the class.

"Sit."

Newt, about to sit down on an empty front row desk, was quickly halted by a soft, "Not there, lovely."

A blush rose up the blonde's neck when the teacher sat back against his chair and patted his lap, a dark smirk gracing his lips.

Newt froze in his position, gawking at his teacher's form. The upper portion of his long-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned, showing off a good portion of his tanned torso. His dark hair slicked back in a fashionable way possible that it should've been illegal, muscled biceps that could make any human being who wasn't already lusting for him turn gay for him and there was just _too bloody much to visualize under all of those clothes –_

"Before I make you sit on my cock, come here."

 _Bloody hell!_ Newt's blush rose up to the tips of his ears, and he almost wanted to snarl at how Minho was simply _smirking_ at him, enjoying the innocence of his student's reactions.

Though, Newt felt himself admitting defeat as he found himself standing in front of his teacher's relaxed form seconds later, face ducked in embarrassment. He couldn't let this asshole teacher know how much he was affecting him.

"What are you waiting for, lovely?" Minho purred, sliding a finger up his student's clothed thigh, enjoying the shiver the action produced before he suddenly gripped the smaller boy's hip and pulled him closer.

Newt felt a pleasurable shame bubbling in him when he instinctively wrapped his legs around his teacher's waist. God, it was embarrassing, their faces so close that their breaths mingled, those _eyes_ looking back at him with such intensity Newt wanted to look away before he succumbed to this teacher's advances. He swore the man could feel the erratic beating of his heart from the closeness of their clothed chests.

"Good boy," Minho praised, and Newt almost _whimpered_ when that hand that was on his hip wormed its way underneath his shirt, caressing the soft flesh of the Newt's stomach, "now, what about your punishment, lovely?"

"S-Sir…"

"I love it when you call me that," Minho hissed, teeth biting slightly on the lobe of Newt's ear, enjoying the breathy moans as his skilled fingers scoured the smooth canvas that was Newt's body. He lifted the boy's loose shirt and licked his lips at the sight.

"Hold your shirt up for me, darling. I want to see those lovely breasts of yours."

Newt wanted to protest, but looking at the hungry, dilated eyes of the man he was technically riding on made those thoughts disappear fairly quickly. Looking down in shame, he tentatively held onto the hem of his simple grey shirt and pulled it up slowly.

The blonde almost felt _pleased_ at the intake of breath from the teacher as a muttered, "Higher, lovely" gave him the incentive to expose more of his body. Another shiver wracked through him when he realized that his nipples – now pink and hard – were in full display for the man who couldn't be less than five years older than him.

Trapped in a lusty daze, Minho dragged his fingers over the expanse of porcelain-white skin in front of him before flicking the hardened nub of his student's breasts.

Newt arched back beautifully, mouth open in a silent 'O' as he was yanked closer and almost wanted to _scream_ when he felt a pair of lips closed around his nipple.

"Love your breasts, darling," Minho panted in between breaths, sending a shock of pleasure straight into Newt's groin, "could suck on them all day long. Maybe rub my cock on them. You'd like that, don't you? Your pretty little nubs painted with my cum. Dirty little slut, that's what you are."

Newt mewled sinfully as Minho not so subtly pulled onto his nipple with his teeth. The blonde was practically _grinding_ against his teacher, feeling more aroused than he should've when the man's clothed erection pressed insistently against his barely covered ass.

"Thank you for wearing those incredibly short shorts today," Minho pulled away from the blonde's chest, smirking in satisfaction at the debauched state his student was in. Flushed face, dark brown eyes tinged with a black-rimmed lust, and the not-so distinct bulge in his student's shorts.

"N-Not like I b-bloody wanted to," Newt babbled deliriously, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his teacher's neck, burying his face into the warm chest, desperately trying to calm himself down from his sex-induced high.

Minho chuckled softly while his fingers discreetly slipped underneath the waistband of the blonde's shorts, and was genuinely surprised by the coincidental lack of underwear and the embarrassed 'Eeep!' from his student.

"Trying to tell me something, lovely?" Minho whispered into the blonde's mussed curls as he cupped a cheek, massaging it lovingly.

The blonde's head shot up from its rather comfortable position earlier and Minho had to force back another chuckle when he was faced with the nervous curling of his student's lips, the adorably dark blush tinting his cheeks and chocolate brown orbs glittering with shame.

"I-It was hot…" Newt muttered numbly.

Minho rolled his eyes before pinching the soft flesh, "Whatever. Now, your snarky behavior."

Newt would've responded with a groan if not for the sudden finger brushing against the rim of his pucker.

"What's up with you today, lovely? You normally don't bite that much during my classes, not even when I come up with the most nefarious plots to get in your pants," Minho leaned forward to nip at an exposed collarbone, receiving a pained moan in return.

"I-It's nothing, really, sir."

Newt choked on a gasp when felt his arse suddenly exposed to the cooling air of the classroom, his shorts precariously hanging off his ankles.

"Do I need to enforce corporal punishment to get an answer out of you, Mr. Isaacs? Because I assure you, I'm not a hundred percent against that."

Newt cried out as a hand connected down onto his bare arse with a deafening 'SMACK!'

"Talk."

Newt bit down on his lip, reluctant to give his teacher the satisfaction of his submission.

Minho smirked, glad that his student couldn't see the smirk reappearing on his face.

"As you wish, lovely."

Newt couldn't stop the cries and whimpers of pain and pleasure escaping his lips as Minho's palm smacked harder and harder against his arse, creating a rhythm of 'SMACK! SMACK! SMACK' 'as the force of his hand increased at each hit.

"H-HAA...AAGHH….AHHHH!" Newt panted harshly, tears springing into his eyes.

"Ready to talk yet?" Minho purred, resting his palm against a cheek, almost cackling in satisfaction at how red and sore his student's arse had become, and the littlest touch against his posterior had the blonde jerking and whimpering.

"Haah….yes…please…s-stop…" Newt mewled, mind trapped in a state of stinging pain and pleasure, mainly from his cock, which was throbbing painfully against his teacher's shirt.

"If you didn't have pants on, I'd say you enjoyed it, lovely," Minho sneered, brushing a thumb against the head of his student's cock.

That kicked Newt over the edge as he moaned loudly and spilled over Minho's clothed stomach. His teacher simply watched in surprised fascination as his student rode out his orgasm in front of him, eyeing the spurts of sticky white cum dripping from the tip.

"We'll get you cleaned up soon," Minho promised, tipping his student's chin so they could see each other properly. The blonde's hair was in a mess, in a sexy, 'I-just-got-fucked' kind of way, and his eyes were glazed over in satisfaction, lips swollen from all the biting he did.

"Tell me what's bothering you, lovely," Minho pressured him gently, supporting him around his waist so the blonde in his debauched state wouldn't collapse on him.

"Mmm…I just got a job offer," Newt muttered sleepily.

"A job offer? Where? What? Who?" Minho asked in a panicked tone. Prostitution? Or even worse, sex slavery? Minho knew the kid wasn't in any seriously bad family conditions. But with looks like his, he could get into any kind of deep shit, and the Asian man didn't exactly appreciate his precious little student getting eye-fucked by a bunch of sleazy old men who would taint his pure, innocent body with their dirty hands and bend him over when he should be the one who –

"Home tutor. Some professors down my street. Said they wanted me to work for 'em, going to tutor their kid…or babysit him or whatever. Their kid's got a lot of social problems so…"

Minho felt the small, lithe body of his student go slack in his arms before slumping against his chest. Within seconds, the boy started to snore quietly and Minho let go of his breath he didn't even know he was holding.

Thank _fuck_ the kid wasn't getting into some prostitution or shit like that. Home tutoring would probably bring out the best in Newt's abilities and Minho couldn't possibly deny that. His student, despite his outwardly cuteness and contrasting, indifferent personality, was brilliant. Fuck it with everyone else's claims.

With a self-assured sigh, Minho briefly cleaned up his student before pulling his shorts back up, not missing the chance to give a loving pat on the blonde's arse.

"Accept that offer, lovely," Minho added as he smoothly bridal-carried his student out of the room.

A snort was his only reply.

Minho bit back a laugh. Tutoring a kid with social problems couldn't be _that_ hard, right?

* * *

 **I know, Minho the teacher screwing his student, who becomes a teacher later and probably does the same. Idk, I just felt like putting some Minho/Newt imput in here. It's still one-sided on Minho's part though. This fic is still mainly Newtmas and I AM NOT CHANGING THAT CALM DOWN.**


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